


Haven't You Heard The Word Of Your Body? [Lust]

by TheHarleyQueen



Series: Maybe They Were Hated (or maybe the were something more) or The Seven Deadly Sins [2]
Category: Descendants (2015), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Bisexual Mal, F/M, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, Marriage, Queen Mal, Royal Wedding, Whipped Cream & Other Delights, talk of prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHarleyQueen/pseuds/TheHarleyQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their vows were sweet and honest. Mal promised him no grand declarations of love, no abundance of children, but she promised to try to be the best queen Auradon could expect from an Isle child (<i>it wasn't in her vow, but every guest could hear the unspoken words hovering in the church</i>).</p>
<p>Ben promised her all his love and time as he was able to give, and to try his best to guide her through the customs she hadn't grown up with, and meant every word. He loved Mal as the Sun loved the Moon and all the Stars, and swore he would treasure her beyond any jewel or piece of gold the palace could offer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>(Too bad it was too late).</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Haven't You Heard The Word Of Your Body? [Lust]

  


* * *

 

Hindsight was 20/20.  
  
It had been five years since Mal and her friends had stood up to their parents, five years since they had "come home". Five years of friendship and apple pies and late movie nights and learning and hope for the future.  
  
It had been four years since the VK programme was scrapped. Four years of food hoarding, of dates with Mal, and four years since Evie had broken up with Doug. Four years of trips to the Isle to implement clean water sources and give them proper food (Ben had never, never known that the Isle kids had survived on scraps).  
  
It had been three years since Queen-Mother Belle had invited the Isle Four to stay with them over the holidays. Three years of night terrors and Mal waking up screaming and weekend Tourney matches and Ben being _pretty certain_ that he was in love with Mal.  
  
It had been two years since Evie had graduated at the top of their class. Two years since Ben had asked Mal to move in with him and two years of her coming home late smelling like apples and cinnamon and cyanide (Evie) and salt and sweat and pine and leather (a mix of Jay and Carlos), masking her own scent of paint and magic and smoke that clung to her skin since the forest fire on the Isle.

  
It had been one year since Ben had asked her to marry him. One year of a _black_ wedding dress, one year of roses _with_ thorns, and one year of her crying over Maleficent. One year of love and evening strolls and tea and etiquette lessons with his mother.

  
And now they came to today. The church { _a compromise, Mal had wanted the wedding in the moors, a true fae wedding, but Auradon traditions won out in this case_ } was decked out in silver and gold and blue and purple, an awful combination, according to Audrey, but it wasn't Audrey's wedding, was it?  
  
Jay and Carlos were nowhere to be seen, probably with the bridal party, making sure Mal was ready { _they were Ben’s groomsmen, but he didn't begrudge them this- they'd known Mal for far longer than he had, after all_ }.  
  
Evie was making last-second corrections, perfecting her flower decorations and straightening the tapestries, making sure the wedding was perfect. Her happiness for Mal and her desperation for perfection were absolute because she'd pledged never to marry { _even once they’d escaped, the Isle four put in all their efforts into spiting their parents_ }.

* * *

  
  
The March began, and all eyes turned away from the altar.  
  
  
Mal was gorgeous, an honest-to-god _angel_ in her wedding dress, the perfect version of a blushing bride- in spite of her curling black and red dress. The train was carried by two little girls, two peasants whose parents had been teacups in the Beast's palace. She practically danced down the aisle, and you could only barely see her Isle-born stalking gait. Evie walked plainly in front of her, as pretty as if it were her wedding, a smile curling around her lips. She skipped (literally skipped) in front of Mal, but behind Lonnie, Carla Charming and Audrey { _Mal had only allowed Audrey into the bridal party because Ben had begged. He wanted his_ ~~ _once_~~ _best friend and his fianceé to get along, even if it were only just for his wedding_ }. The march (traditional, not Isle-styled, because none of them had known the music for the less-traditional wedding march) led her slowly down the aisle, and his eyes were fixed. His father had offered to hand her over, but she'd refused. In the fashion of the fae, she'd wanted (wished, prayed) that her mother would feel enough love to hand her over (the one who passed on the magick was the one to pass over the bride), but her mother hadn't, and so she'd enlisted the Fairy Godmother, her tutor in magick, to give her away. And so Fairy Godmother beamed, delighted as she walked the girl she'd come to see as a surrogate daughter { _Jane had never been willing to learn the magicks_ } over into her future.  
  
Their vows were sweet and honest. Mal promised him no grand declarations of love, no abundance of children, but she promised to try to be the best queen Auradon could expect from an Isle child  { _it wasn't in her vow, but every guest could hear the unspoken words hovering in the church_ }.  
  
Ben promised her all his love and time as he was able to give, and to try his best to guide her through the customs she hadn't grown up with, and meant every word. He loved Mal as the Sun loved the Moon and all the Stars, and swore he would treasure her beyond any jewel or piece of gold the palace could offer.

* * *

 

 

The reception was three days long, and every night was more tiring than the last. Mal's feet carried the blisters feet unaccustomed to heels and his hands were tired and red, jumpy from all the congratulatory handshakes. However, they participated in the wedding games with all the enthusiasm of a newly-wed couple.  
  
Mal had  _insisted_ that the peasants be welcomed into the reception, unheard of as it was. And, as little girls and boys ran around shrieking with joy, chasing frogs and rabbits to their heart's content, Ben could see why. Everyone, even the visiting nobles who had initially disproved the idea, were happier, full of the laughter and brightness the children brought. _She will be a wonderful queen_ , he thought, watching her interact with some of the children, hitching up her skirts so that she could chase after them, _and an even greater mother_. The thought shocked him. Motherhood was not  _spoken_ about among males in Auradon, but rather something that women kept between themselves when they cooked (if they were lower-class) or spoke at tea parties (if they were nobility). But now, he thought about it. Mal would be a wonderful mother, even if hers was so awful. Look at the heroes. Most of them (Cinderella, to say the least) had had terrible childhoods, but their children had turned out wonderfully.  
  
{ _Ben didn't know, couldn't, that Mal had no intention of bearing him children, that on the Isle she had been raised to know that children were not the greatest thing a woman could amount to, unlike the girls in Auradon_ }.  
  
Slowly, the nobles, and then the peasants, retired to wherever they were staying the night. They had worn themselves out in the last days, and now that the revelries were over, were more than willing to return to their normal lives. The wedding had been a break, for most of them, in the monotonous tone of their lives, but now they had worn themselves out and longed to return to their routines.  
  
But, as king and queen, their night wasn't quite over. One last thing remained. To consummate the wedding- another Auradonian tradition, before they left for their honeymoon. Ben felt his nerves mounting, even as Mal looked cool and collected, laughing with Evie and Carlos and Jay over something, a champagne flute in her hand. She _looked_ , thought Ben,  _as if she'd been raised to be a queen and not a villain_. She looked as though she'd been attending parties like these all her life, instead of the rowdy messes with hard alcohol (his introduction to vodka was a night to remember- or it would be, if he could) and women she said you could pay to take their clothes off, and awful renditions of the heroes 'theme songs' she'd called them nastily.  
  
She looked, in short, like a _ruler_ .  
  
He drifted over, and she looked up. She smiled and winked conspiratorially at Evie, who planted a kiss on his cheek and grabbed “her boys'' { _as she'd referred to them since she'd broken up with Doug_ } hands, and dragged them away from the gazebo, calling after Mal that she'd see her in the morning- whatever that meant, as they were due to their honeymoon early, and she and Mal would not actually have time to see each other before they left. Mal linked their arms into each other and started them on a slow walk through the gardens, slowly but surely directing them back towards the palace. Her hands brushed over the roses, white and pink and orange, but not red because Queen Alice { _something they only called her when she emerged from the metal hospital her family had locked her in_ } had flashbacks when it came to red roses. She had, at some point in the night, kicked her shoes off somewhere, so her dress dragged on the dirt and her bare feet poked out from underneath when she took a step. Her hair, grown out and dyed brown for the ceremony, had been swept to one side, and her lipstick had washed off soon after she'd found the strawberries.

She looked _gorgeous_.

 

And as they strolled across the gardens, her hands drifted. They went lower to untuck his shirt, and lower still, dipping past his boxers and her mouth followed them down, kissing down his neck and biting lightly. He could feel her smirk against his skin, and the heat of her hands as the blood rushed _down_.

 

He picked her up (sometimes his _beastly_ strength showed up at the most _useful_ moments) and they quickly made their way back into the palace, her hands still wandering _up_ and _down_ and _everywhere._ Her heady scent of paint and smoke and _magic_ lingered in his head, making rational thought difficult.

When they arrived in _their_ new rooms { _and God, he never got tired of saying it. Their new life. Their crowns and their thrones and their future together_ }, he set her down, expecting _more_ of what had been happening in the gardens. Instead, she told him to wait and stalked off into the closet.

 

* * *

 

Ben had no expectations of what was to come next. He’d never done this before. He _could_ have. He’d had plenty of opportunities, but had always liked the idea of remaining pure and untouched until marriage. All of this wasn’t to say that he had no clue what he was doing. Auradon was closeted about things like pornography and strip clubs, but even those still existed. So, maybe he had had some expectations.

 

_Weren’t they supposed to collapse to the bed, kissing?_

 

_Wasn’t he supposed to take off her wedding gown?_

 

But those expectations were overshadowed by the overarching question: _what was that pixie doing?_ And yeah, he knew that it was _extremely_ derogatory to call the fae pixies, but she was just making him _so mad_ -

 

_She was wearing a corset_ . Mal had always refused to wear gowns with corsets, said they suffocated her, didn’t give her room to _fight_ . But here she stood, in a corset made of black lace { _and dragon bone_ }, a deep purple garter belt, and stockings { _and nothing else_ }. The way she stood, powerful, dominating, commanding him to look at her, sent blood rushing through his body, made his head light. He leaned back against the mahogany headboard and just gazed at her gorgeous body { _it was all his_ }. And he _knew_ that he could never live without Mal, that he’d go to war for her and die for her, as long as they could be together forever.

And she was on his lap again, kissing and touching and holding and _restraining_ and he loved this woman so much that it was _hurting_ him.She pushed him down softly, pulling his hands up above his head. And he was so distracted by the _beauty_ before him that he didn’t even notice what she was doing until he heard the _click_ of handcuffs securing his wrists to the headboard.

 

His wife slid down over his body as he pulled at the cuffs, pulling him into another kiss, “Relax, babe. Just think about it. How good will it feel to  want to _touch_ me, to _ache_ for it, and not be able to…” her whispers trailed off in his ear, and she trailed kisses down his jaw, “Think about how _crazy_ it will drive you when you finally do touch me.”

 

He had wanted to share sex with her, to introduce her to the wonders of her body, but as she spoke, the handcuffs against his wrists felt better and better, and her idea sounded _so_ appealing. Later, they’d share sex the way he’d pictured it; but now, he just wanted to feel what _his_ Mal would do next. And so he went lax, allowing her to secure his feet to the other bedposts.

 

From between her breasts she pulled out a small knife. It had a black handle with a sigil carved into it, and was made of silver. She trailed it over his chest, “I just need to unwrap you, babe,” she smiled comfortingly, “this is an athame. It’s a ceremonial knife, used by witches and fae. To give us luck, baby.” She slowly brought the knife down, splitting the seams of his wedding finery.

 

A few minutes later { _minutes that felt like hours_ } his suit lay in tatters on the floor. And he was completely bare { _he didn’t feel uncomfortable, just_ **_real_** }. The new Queen of Auradon climbed on top of her husband and sank down onto him, slowly. Giving both of them time to adjust { _not that she needed it_ }. And he lost himself, into the world of her body, common sense flying out the window and leaving only the primal senses.

 

“You’re doing amazing, babe,” she cooed, kissing his neck, “so amazing, babe. I feel so good.”  And the way he _felt_ was so _amazing_ that he didn’t consider anything else. None of his pre-wedding fears { _Mal, laughing and smiling and touching Jay and Carlos and even Evie_ } had any hold over him anymore. Her hands were reaching _down_ , now, and she was _touching herself while she was on top of him_.

 

They reached their climax together { _a feat carefully orchestrated by the magick vows of the wedding_ }.

 

And Mal just stayed on top of him.

 

“You’re not half-bad, darling,” she told him conversationally, “not the best I’ve ever had, but I never thought you could beat _them_.” She smiled down on him and climbed off, rolling over to the other side of the bed and reaching up- not to uncuff him, as he’d thought, but to pull the axe that hung above the bed down. She sat up, stretched the axe over her head, and smiled.

 

“You’re about to give me the greatest wedding present a woman could ever ask for, Ben,” she told him, positioning herself on her knees, axe above his neck, “your country.”

As she raised the axe high, Ben knew that he was going to die.  And yet he couldn't regret his choices. Mal and Jay and Carlos and Evie, they were his friends. He'd brought them here and shown them _good_ and he loved them. He loved Mal, and what he’d done was the right thing.  With his last moments, he desperately hoped that he and Mal had conceived a child this night.  A child that would one day grow up to be a hero beyond the calibre of his mother and father. And then the axe fell and there was nothing left to see.

 

* * *

 

Mal walked out of the chambers. She held a sheet over her otherwise nude body, and grasped the final key for _revenge_ in her hand. She walked around the palace that was now _hers_ , all _hers and Evie’s and Carlos’s and Jay’s._ She wanted this, she _deserved_ this after years of torture and selling her body because her mother needed food. She was a _queen_ , and Maleficent was nothing. Sunlight streamed through the window, and blood dripped from her prize down into the thick carpets. The camera was waiting in the entrance chamber, for her and her _love_ to declare the consummation of their marriage and ride off into the sun. They would get _lovers_ , alright. And they would get their queen.

 

All in all, no one expected that the muffin Mal gave Ben was not, in fact, an anti-love spell, but rather, a spell to keep it more firmly in place. No one expected that every single move in the last _five_ years had been orchestrated by the four children from the Isle. But looking back, it was obvious that they were lovers, and it was obvious that they were liars. It just took a little blood and sex and death for Ben to see that.

 

(Too bad it was too late).


End file.
